Hellcat
by Rose Atlee
Summary: AUOCC. Brick Top's not dead. Tommy and Turkish have a new fighter. Grenades and fireworks (fig. spkng) around every turn! Rated R for STRONG LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL SITUATIONS. (Everything you wantedgot in the movie) R&R please! NO FLAMES! Ch7 up!
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer:** Snatch and everything associated with it belong to Guy Ritchie. I merely am borrowing it for my own perverse pleasure.

**A/N:** This baby was a long time in coming – I originally lost all eight chapters that were written, and only recently and with the help of a new found friend was I able to recover most of my files. Chapters 3, 6, and 8 were completely lost, but I should be able to get them reasonably close to what they were before my "tragedy." Enjoy!!!!!  
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**Chapter 1 **

"Fuck me!" she swore under her breath as she entered the run down space that was supposed to be a training center for unlicensed boxing. "This place is a fuckin' joke!" She continued making her way through the building, towards the beat up, barely standing caravan that was what she supposed was to be the office. Near the caravan, a large bald man was pounding a punching bag with a good amount of force, head butting it between hits, two men stood behind him, backs to her direction, wearing trenchcoats over fairly nice slacks and shoes. She glanced around, noting that many of the men who had been working out had stopped what they were doing and watched her as she made her way toward the two men. Obviously, they would be the ones in charge. As she closed the distance between them, she was able to easily overhear their conversation, which caused her to smile mischievously.

"Who the hell is this 'Hellcat', then Tommy?" the taller man was saying, "I mean, did you see him?"

"Well, no, Turkish, I haven't, but Mickey said…"

"Mickey says a lot o' shit that doesn't mean anythin'." She interrupted in her not-quite Irish, not-quite English accent, which while much like Mickey's, was a bit more educated, and spoken slowly enough that they could understand what she was saying. The sound of her voice startled them, and they both jumped slightly as they turned to face her. 'Well,' she thought, looking them both over carefully, her grey-blue eyes lingering on the taller man, 'at least there'll be somethin' nice to look at.'

She could see the mild confusion that crossed both of their faces as they contemplated how a pikey accent – as they referred to it – could accompany this girl who stood in front of them. It didn't seem to quite fit – she was wearing grey tear-away workout pants with black stripes, a black hooded sweatshirt that was almost brand new, and nice A.D.I.D.A.S. sneakers. Her long sandy-brown hair had a streak of blue on either side near the front, and cascaded halfway down her back in loose waves.

"Who are you?" the shorter man demanded, shifting nervously. She took her eyes away from the tall man, who was now regarding her with an inquisitive gaze.

A smile crossed her lips as she answered, "Me name's Muireann, but y' can call me 'ellcat." The smaller man's jaw dropped in astonishment.

"You? You're Hellcat? I don't believe it."

She nodded a confirmation, her smile widening with amusement, "What, y' were expectin' someone a bit more," she paused as she stifled a laugh, "manly?" There was no answer to her question right away, and in the silence she could hear that the bald man was no longer hitting the bag. "Make no mistake, boys, I can beat the 'ell out o' most anyone y' put in me path."

The tall man still had not said a word, and Muireann moved her gaze back to him. "If y' don't want me 'ere, I'll be on my way then. I'll be sure to give Mickey yer regards." She turned to leave.

"No. Wait." It was the shorter man again, "I didn't mean any offence, it's just that Mickey didn't tell us you were a…"

"Woman?" she finished for him, turning back around. Now the taller man looked like he wanted to say something, but just couldn't get it out. She suppressed a laugh again, and put her bags down with an exaggerated sigh. "Look, if y' want, I'll fight any man 'ere, you pick 'im. I promise not to kill 'im, either. Whatever it'll take t' ease yer fears."

"Okay." The taller man said, "You'll spar with Gorgeous George here. If you beat him, you can fight for me. If not, you'll have to tell Mickey that you couldn't cut it, and go back to doing whatever it was that you did before coming here." 'My, does he have a nice voice.' She thought.

"Sounds fine to me, but on one condition." He looked at her expectantly, "Yer man will not 'old back on account of the fact that I'm prettier than 'e is."

"Hear that, Gorgeous? No holding back." The tall man said to the bald guy behind her with a chuckle. "The name's Turkish, and this is Tommy." He held out his hand to her, which she shook with a grip that surprised him. Not sure what to make of her, Turkish extended his arm toward the ring, interested in seeing exactly what this girl could do. He had never worked with a female boxer before, certainly not in the male dominated unlicensed circuit. He wasn't even sure that anyone would let her have a match, but, if this is what Mickey wanted…

Muireann went to ringside ahead of them, smiling at the guys who were realizing what was about to happen and coming over to watch. She hopped up onto the side, ducking under the ropes. She examined the ring, fully aware of all of the men now surrounding the ring as Gorgeous George climbed in across from her. Turkish and Tommy were now at the front of the small crowd, waiting.

"Do you need to warm up first?" Gorgeous asked her out of politeness. It would be a shame to beat the piss out her right off the bat.

"It's warm enough already, darlin'." She responded sweetly, pulling off her sweatshirt to reveal a belly-baring spandex shirt clinging to her well-toned torso. The sleeveless garment showed off her arms, which were muscular, but not to the point of being unattractive. She had a tattoo at the top of each arm, one across her lower back, and one on the back of her neck. Several of the guys murmured amongst themselves, making not so proper comments.

A few whistled as Muireann reached up to pull her hair into a loose bun at the back of her head, causing a small smile from her. She flicked her eyes to where Tommy and Turkish were, both watching with thinly veiled approval. Tommy looked a little embarrassed when he realized that she saw through it, and looked away blushing. Turkish, however - Muireann shivered inside as he, instead of being embarrassed, continued to watch her, nodding toward Gorgeous to indicate for her to begin. Turning back to Gorgeous, Muireann saw a flash of uncertainty as he recognized one of her tattoos. He looked to Tommy, but got no reassurance, as Tommy had not seen it.

So, Mickey hadn't lied when he told her that he'd beaten the living hell out of this guy, she thought as she taped up her hands. Clearly, the man had enough sense to have taken notice of the tat on Mickey's upper right arm, aye, noticed it enough to recognize the same tat on her upper right arm. They had them done the same day, when she turned 17 and came back to visit for a month or so during the summer.

Ready, she gestured to Gorgeous to come at her, and he obliged. Muireann blocked several hits before getting a feel for the larger man's fighting style. Suddenly, Gorgeous was on the defensive, attempting to block punch after punch of a vicious attack from the 5'6" brunette, and not doing well at it. The men cheered and taunted, some aimed at Muireann, others aimed at Gorgeous. Frustrated, Gorgeous shoved her backward, sending her stumbling into the ropes as he followed her motion. He hauled his arm back, going for what would be a violent blow, and tempered it at the last moment, still hitting her with enough force to make her let out a startled grunt. Angry now, Muireann moved to her right, changing up her own style of attack, and Gorgeous had just enough time to realize what was about to happen before she jolted back to her left and down slightly, slamming her left fist into his face, then followed it up immediately with a violent right uppercut.

Tommy let out a startled "Oh!" as Muireann used a modified version of Mickey's attack to floor her larger opponent. Yells of dismay – and approval – echoed in the cavernous room as Gorgeous lay on the canvas, breathing heavily and totally oblivious to anything that was going on. Smiling with pride at her feat, Muireann turned back toward Tommy and Turkish, who were now climbing into the ring to check on Gorgeous, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

"What the fuck'd you do that for?" Tommy hollered, trying to snap Gorgeous out of his incapacitated state.

"I only promised not t' kill 'im." She stated with mock innocence, "Besides, I told th' bastard not t' hold back! He didn't hit me nearly as hard as 'e could've. 'ts not my fault he didn't knock me out!"

Turkish stood not more than four feet away from her, trying to figure out whether to kick her ass out onto the street for doing this to his best fighter, or take her to the 'office' and sign her up. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to piss her off if he could help it. Just as he was making up his mind, Tommy stood up, trying to help Gorgeous stumble to his feet.

"You better consider yourself lucky that he doesn't have to go to the hospital like when…" Tommy cut himself off as Gorgeous fell against him slightly, sending them both into the turnbuckle.

"Tommy, right?" she looked at him, her eyes going steely and her voice lowering with a flash of anger at his tone towards her, "I'd suggest that you consider yerself lucky that I didn't hit 'im nearly as hard as I'm able to. A 'ospital would do 'im no good then." Tommy's eyes widened as she took a step towards them, and was stopped by Turkish's hand on her arm.

"No more fighting today. Let's go into the office, and you can tell us some more about yourself." He said, leading her to the ropes and holding them for her. "Tommy, make sure Gorgeous is alright, and come on in." She jumped down, walking through the opening that the guys made as she left the ring. She picked up her bags, and went to the caravan/office, glaring back at Tommy as Turkish showed her in.

"Is he always like that?" Muireann asked as she took a seat at the tiny table in the back corner.

"I could ask the same question about you." Turkish responded, "Care for something to drink?"

"Water, if y' have any." She admired his lean form as he searched in the small refrigerator for a bottled water, looking away as he stood up and brought it to her. He went back and poured himself a glass of milk, then came and sat across from her.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Turkish asked after a moment.

"Mickey." Tommy and Muireann said at the same time. She looked over to him as he came further into the caravan, a small flicker of annoyance flared before she controlled her temper. Turkish looked to Tommy, then turned his attention back to Muireann.

"Uh huh." He said, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. "And, um, you grew up with Mickey then?"

"Yeah, you could say that. Fer a while, at least." Muireann sighed as she knew what was coming, "And before y' ask, me ma' sent me to live with friends of ours when I was ten, bein' as they could send me to school. I would go back to her in th' summer to visit." Her eyes turned a watery blue as they misted with sadness for a moment, pushed away quickly as she blinked the memory away.

"But how would you know where they were? I mean, pikey's are always moving about, It must've been difficult to track them down." Tommy asked, gaining another annoy'd look from Muireann. Turkish sent Tommy a warning glance that he was not to antagonize or aggravate their new protégé.

"I didn't. They'd come fer me when it was time, and take me back before school started again."

"Why would you decide to fight instead of going to college and getting a job?" Turkish asked. This was getting more intriguing.

"I guess y' could say it's in me blood." Muireann responded with a smile. "I got into a lot o' fights in school. It started mostly with th' boys who thought they'd take advantage of a young girl – most of 'em wound up with broken arms or jaws, depending on the offence. After that, none of th' girls wanted to be friends because they were afraid of me. Th' only person who didn't run from me was my friend Caitlin. She was th' girl whose family I was livin' with." She took a sip of her water, thinking.

"So why come here? Why not go to some other agency to fight?" Tommy asked. 'Oh, Tommy,' Turkish thought, 'I this girl decides to come at you, I don't know that I'll try to stop her.'

"Because this is th' only place Mickey trusts for me to go. 'e knows that y' take care of yer fighters, and that yer good men." She stated simply.

"And you always do as Mickey says?" Turkish questioned with a hint of a smile, thinking he had it figured out.

"Yeah, mostly." Muireann answered fondly.

"Because he's you're boyfriend." Turkish said proud of himself.

"No." Turkish looked surprised, "Because he's my brother."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Snatch and everything associated with it belong to Guy Ritchie. I merely am borrowing it for my own perverse pleasure.

**Reviewer Responses**:

MicroChips, my one and only review so far for Chapter 1: Thanks ever so much for reading! Glad you approve! I wanted to clear up that I actually said OCC, not OOC – the original character creating being Muireann's. giggles An easy mistake to make, though, they will, undoubtedly, go OOC from time to time, no matter how hard I try not to do that. Thanks again and keep up the reviews!

The rest of you – Reviews are what make my world go 'round!

Reminder: Thoughts are in single quotations.

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Chapter 2 

"It's not much, but it serves its purpose." Turkish was saying as he showed Muireann into his flat. The afternoon had gone pretty smoothly, Muireann had signed on with him to fight, and Tommy had managed to keep his mouth shut for most of the remaining hours they spent at the office. It had been decided by Mickey in his prior conversation with Tommy that Muireann would stay with Turkish until she could get a place of her own. So, here they were, Turkish was a bit uneasy with the thought of having a girl staying in his flat with him when he didn't know her too well, but knew enough about her to know that being Mickey's sister meant that she most likely wouldn't steal from him. Muireann was also a little uneasy, but used to being in new and different places, so it wasn't too much of a plague on her mind.

The flat was small, but not tiny. Muireann looked about, aquainting herself with the location of everything from the kitchen which had a few dishes in the sink, to the bathroom, which was right next to the bedroom door. Glancing into the bedroom, Muireann was surprised to find a rather large bed, unmade from the previous night. The thought suddenly struck her that Turkish may want to have women over, and she may have to endure listening to the symphony of their exploits.

Turning back towards the main room, she found Turkish sitting in an armchair, watching her. Muireann offered a small smile as she put her bags down in an out of the way spot, and walked over to the sofa.

"It's a nice place." She said as she sat on the surprisingly comfortable cushions. "How long 'ave y' lived here?"

"Six years." He replied, still watching her. It was beginning to make her uncomfortable.

She paused, then gathered up some courage to say, "I'm not a t'ief."

This seemed to unnerve Turkish slightly as he realized that she was implying that he was watching her for any unusual movement to indicate that she was casing the joint. Little did she know that his thoughts had been far from that. "I'm sorry?" he asked, not sure what to say. "I never said…"

"No, y' didn't. But I wouldn't blame y' for thinkin' it. After all, the sister of a gypsy, staying in your place at last minute's notice, who wouldn't think it?" she regarded him with an apprehensive look, "So I just wanted t' tell y' I'm not a t'ief. I never was, never will be."

He was taken aback by her directness, but then, what else was to be expected from one of the O'Neil's? 'Alright, Turk, just get your mind back out of your pants and think rationally.' He told himself, 'The girl's probably hungry, and God knows you have nothing here suitable for making.'

"Are you hungry?" he asked her.

"A little." She admitted, a little confused by his sudden change of topic. Maybe he DID think she was casing the place. 'Well, let him think whatever he wants, then when he's wrong, he'll realize how mistaken he is.'

"Do you mind if we go out? I don't have much here right now." He felt dumb for inserting the last part; why did he feel like he needed to validate taking her out to eat? She didn't need to know that he hadn't gone go the grocer in what seemed like months.

"No, that'd be fine. Can I shower and change first?" She asked, not waiting for him to answer. She went to her bags and pulled out some clothes, carrying them with her into the bathroom.

He heard the shower turn on, and her head peered around the doorway, "Do you have a towel that I can use?"

"Sure." Turkish rose and went to the closet. He pulled out a rather plush gray towel and walked it over to her.

"Thank you." She said, her body hidden behind the door as she took the towel from him. He couldn't help but to glance into the mirror on the wall that was to her right and gave him a view of her now naked profile. He quickly looked away as he felt himself stirring, and turned away from her to go back to the living room before she could see the evidence of his indiscretion. He heard her shut the door behind him and let out a sigh.

"Great Turkish, just great!" he scolded himself quietly, "Just lose your cool over the sister of a man you know could kill you in an instant if he felt so inclined. Wonderful! You stupid fuck!" Frustrated, he sat in his chair again, listening to the sounds of the shower running. He caught himself thinking about slipping quietly into the shower behind her, watching the water pour over her sleek curves as she rolled her head from side to side as the stream gently massaged her neck. How her lips would part as she relaxed more and more under the hot downpour of water, and how he would take advantage of those parted lips as he pulled her against him…

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the water turning off, and the bathroom door opening. Shifting in his seat to try to hide his arousal, Turkish looked to the doorway and had to swallow a groan. Muireann was standing there, the towel wrapped around her dripping body, her damp hair hanging in swollen strands as it clung to her neck and back. Steam was coming out the door, like some mythical mist that accompanies the appearance of a goddess. Trying to keep himself from showing his thoughts, he cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

"Do y' mind if I get dressed in th' bedroom?" she asked, wiping a drop of water away that had decided to run down her brow at that moment.

"By all means…" he replied, nodding towards his room. She rewarded him with another small smile as she gathered her things and went into his room. He did not hear the door latch all the way, and fought the urge to go have a look. 'Damn it, Mickey! Why couldn't she look more like you mother?' he swore silently. Instead, he got up, pacing the floor, trying to think of anything but the naked woman in his bedroom. This was going to be a long few weeks. He hoped it would only be a few weeks, because he didn't know if he'd be able to keep himself from ravaging her for much longer than that. Without realizing it, he had paced his way right toward the bedroom door. He was surprised to find the door more ajar than he had thought, with a clear view of her underwear-clad figure with her back to him, bent over slightly as she put on a pair of tightly fitting pants.

It was almost too much, and Turkish found himself heading into the bathroom, unzipping his pants before he even got the door closed. It didn't take too long, clutching the sink counter with his left hand as he finished with his right. He took a wad of toilet paper and wiped up what didn't make it into the toilet, then washed his hands and splashed a bit of cold water on his face. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, angry with himself for reacting like a schoolboy to her presence. It wasn't like he hadn't had a piece of ass recently, so there was no excuse for nearly soiling his trousers at the sight of her bent over like that. Besides, it wouldn't be good for him to get involved – physically or emotionally – with his newest fighter, not to mention that it was Mickey O'Neil's sister for Christ's sake! He could see a great many visits to Rosebud's, his favorite place to get some when he was temporarily without a woman.

Coming out of the bathroom, Turkish kept his gaze averted from the bedroom door. He went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and downed the searing liquid. As he lowered the bottle from his lips, a hand reached up and took it. He stared at her without saying a word as she put the bottle to her own mouth and tipped it back. A small drop slid its way from the mouth of the bottle and down from the corner of her mouth, teasing him to follow its trail in reverse with his lips. Turkish blinked the thought away, retrieving the bottle from her grasp and putting it away.

"Are y' ready now?" she asked, cocking her head to the side as she used one finger to wipe the offensive drop from her chin, hoping he would hear the double meaning in her words. Sweet Mary, he was a handsome man, and if her instincts served her – which they usually did – she could tell that he wanted her, too. She had a good idea what he'd been thinking when she had come out after her shower, but she had heard him pacing the floor, and out of the corner of her eye she had caught him peeking in while she was dressing. He was tense, she could see his muscles bunching beneath his shirt even now. She had heard his muffled grunt when he was in the bathroom. There was no mistaking why he had made that sound, no matter how quiet he thought he had been.

She looked into his smoldering eyes and edged closer to him, her breathing slowing. He continued to stand there, frozen to the spot, a war raging between his good sense and his primal urge to have her right there on the floor. Both flinched when the phone rang, echoing loudly through the thick silence. Muireann smiled slightly as Turkish slid past her to get to the phone, being careful to avoid contact with her body.

"Turkish." He answered hoarsely, clearing his throat. He glanced back to Muireann, taking in the sight of her lounging back against his counter, watching him with bemusement. God, how he wanted to have her right there – or maybe on the table…

"Turkish?" the voice on the other end of the line questioned impatiently.

"Huh?" 'Damn!' "Sorry, Tommy, what were you sayin'?" he turned away from her, willing himself to stay focused on what Tommy was trying to tell him.

"Never mind, it wasn't important." The younger man's tone was dejected sounding, like a child who is scolded for trying too hard to get his parents' approval.

"Have you eaten yet?" Turkish asked. 'Yeah, that's the ticket. With someone else there, it won't be as hard to keep my distance.'

"No, not yet." Tommy replied.

"Good. Meet us at Tony's. My treat." Turkish hung up before Tommy could protest. "Ready?" he asked, grabbing his coat.

Muireann cocked an eyebrow and nodded, following him out the door with a self-satisfied smile twitching at her lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Snatch and everything associated with it belong to Guy Ritchie. I merely am borrowing it for my own perverse pleasure.

STILL RATED R

A/N: This is a chapter that is a little slow-moving, but it just sorta needed to be there, in my mind. Enjoy!

Reviewer Responses:

MicroChips – Tension is good....VERY good.... (laughs insanely)

Mystery-child-001 – Thanks for the review! Nice to have you aboard!

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Chapter 3 

Their supper was uneventful, in a typical out of the way Italian restaurant; decent food, an all right atmosphere – but not the type of place anyone would take someone to impress them. There was tension in the air at their table, Tommy noticed. He said nothing until Muireann excused herself to go to the ladies' room.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded once he was sure that she was out of earshot.

"Nothin's going on, Tommy." Annoyance dripped from Turkish's voice.

"Horseshit!" Tommy yelled. He was silenced immediately by an 'if-you-don't-keep-your-voice-down-I-will-kill-you' look from his partner. "You didn't…" he asked more quietly.

"No, Tommy, I didn't." Anger and frustration rippled across Turkish's face. "I did nothin' of the sort."

"Good. The last thing we need is that girl causing any problems. Remember how much trouble Mickey got us in?" Tommy said, sitting back in his chair slightly.

"Yeah, Tommy, I remember." Turkish replied.

"You don't need to go and get yourself involved with her. It's bad for business. I mean, what was to happen if you were to get her sprogged up? Or, what if Mickey didn't approve, and came 'round to top you for gettin' your oats from her?"

"Don't think these things haven't occurred to me, Tommy!" Turkish said vehemently. "Don't worry, I, unlike many of our associates, am able to control myself around women." He thought back to his loss of control earlier, and his frustration mounted again. It was at this moment that Muireann made her way back to the table.

"Did I miss somethin'?" she queried, looking from one to the other.

"No." They answered in unison.

"Are you about ready to go then?" Turkish asked.

Muireann nodded, not sure she believed them. Actually, judging from the expression on Turkish's face when she returned, she missed a lot. With a sigh, she followed the two men out of the restaurant and into the foggy night.

After parting ways with Tommy, Turkish and Muireann walked in almost complete silence back to his flat. Once inside, Turkish told her that he was going out for a walk, and would be back later.

"You can sleep in my room if you like." He offered gruffly as he closed the door behind him.

When he returned two hours later, he found Muireann fully clothed and asleep on the sofa, barely covered by an old blanket she'd found in a closet, and the television going. Turkish stood there a moment, indecisive, then turned off the TV. went into the bedroom and climbed under his own covers. It wasn't long before his good manners got the best of him, and with a quiet curse, he threw back the blankets and went back out to where the young woman was still sleeping soundly. Turkish thought about waking her and making her walk back to the bed, but some part of him wouldn't allow it, and instead he lifted her gently from the uncomfortable couch. Her smaller frame pressed close to his warmth, and she made a small sound as he shifted her to get a better hold. He walked back to his room with her in his arms, and laid her on the infinitely more comfortable mattress, adjusting the blankets around her to keep her warm. Then he turned back and took her place on the sofa, wondering how she'd fallen asleep there in the first place.

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Muireann pulled a pillow over her eyes to block out the rays of the sun that were filtering through the window, then pulled it off, startled. A pillow? She opened one eye, glancing around a little before opening the other one. 'Bloody hell! How'd I get here?' the thought, sitting up. At least she was alone in the bed. She laid back again, going over her last memories of the night before. Dinner. Walking back to the flat. Turkish leaving right away. Sitting on the sofa watching the telly. She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep. He must've brought her in here when he came back.

She inhaled deeply as she started to stretch, stopping suddenly as she realized that his scent was all around her, and intoxicatingly masculine smell that wafted gently to her with each movement. Muireann lay perfectly still a moment, and then decided it was better to get out of the bed now rather than stay.

She stepped quietly out into the main room, peering over the back of the sofa to see if he was still sleeping. A small smile curved the corners of her mouth as she watched him, blanket half off of him, his shirt and slacks in a pile on the floor next to him. Her eyes skimmed over his well-toned torso, up to his face. A sudden thought occurred to Muireann, and she went over to her bag, looking for the small wad of bills she'd brought with her. She slipped on her sneakers as she tried to remember how far away the little grocer's store had been. Glancing over the sofa once more as she passed, Muireann picked up the keys from the counter and let herself out into the hallway, locking it again as quietly as she could.

Returning half an hour later, Muireann slipped back into the flat, placed the keys back on the counter, and slipped her feet back out of her shoes. She checked to make sure that Turkish was still sleeping, then went to the counter and pulled out a frying pan. She put away a few things, and then stuck the new bottle of milk into the refrigerator before turning back to the task at hand. She placed the bacon into the pan, and the smell of the meat cooking quickly filled the small room.

"What are you doing?"

Muireann spun around to find Turkish standing not too far behind her, bare chested. He'd put his pants on before coming over to investigate what she was up to. Muireann was at a loss for words for a moment before turning back to the stove, pushing at the meat with the spatula.

"I'm cookin' breakfast. Is tha' alright?"

"Here, let me do that." Turkish held his hand out for the spatula, eliciting a laugh from Muireann.

"You cook?"

Turkish gave her a sly look, a grin threatening to overwhelm him. "I'm by no means a professional, but it's more than edible."

Still giggling, Muireann handed the utensil over, stepping away to observe.

"How d' you like your eggs?"

"Over easy." Muireann responded, beginning a search for some plates. She didn't try to keep the undertones from her voice.

"In this one." Turkish nodded towards one just to his left, reaching up to open it for her. Muireann reached into the cabinet, trying to not get in his way. She glanced at him with a slight smile on her lips as she began to pull the plates out, turning just so slightly as she did so. They both paused and stared at each other as she inadvertently brushed against him, surprised by the unexpected contact.

"Sorry." Muireann mumbled as she pulled away, an all too familiar tingling beginning somewhere within. She cleared her throat a little. "Forks?"

"In the drawer to your right." He responded, his voice a little more husky than it had been minutes before.

Muireann gathered what they'd need, and began to set the small table that was against the wall.

'Get control of yourself!' they both scolded themselves at the same time.

They ate their breakfast in what was once again a tense silence, neither of them knowing how to begin a conversation. Instead, when the plates were empty, Muireann rose and carried them to the sink.

"You can leave those for now." Turkish said suddenly, breaking the ominous silence.

"I should at least rinse them." Muireann said. "I hate trying to wash plates with dried food stuck to them."

Turkish nodded, watching her. "I'm gonna put you in a sparring match against Bill 'The Brusiser' today."

"Alright." Muireann agreed, turning back from the sink to find him still watching her. A flash of annoyance at the situation made her step toward him deliberately. She wanted to do something; to get the awkwardness she was feeling out of her system. She was pretty sure he was feeling it, too, and was tired of neither of them doing anything about it.

Turkish just continued to hold her gaze as she stepped closer, stopping no more than a foot from where he was sitting. Her questioning, determined eyes searched his as he stood, closing the distance between them to mere inches.

"We'd better get going." Turkish said, his breathing ragged.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Snatch and everything associated with it belong to Guy Ritchie. I merely am borrowing it for my own perverse pleasure.

Still rated R!

A/N: A little bit of a tension-breaker (or did I mean 'creator'?) hmmm...

Review Replies:

MicroChips – Here's your more! lol

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Chapter 4 

They walked down to the old parking garage that now served as Turkish's 'arena' in silence, neither looking at the other. They entered through the arcade, and Tommy gave them an odd look as they passed him, nothing but a grunt from Turkish in the form of a greeting. Inside the garage, Muireann immediately went to an empty corner and began stretching, looking around for an open punching bag.

"Bill, you're going to go up against Hellcat in a match!" Turkish said, his voice ringing in off of the concrete walls. Bill nodded, sending a nervous look in Muireann's direction. "One o'clock." Turkish finished. He went into the caravan/office and shut the door behind him. Several confused looks danced from the door to Muireann and back again, mostly resulting in heads shaking.

Muireann finished stretching, then proceeded to beat the hell out of one of the bags, getting out all of her pent up emotion. 'I know 'e wanted t' kiss me this morning, why th' 'ell didn't 'e?' Frustrated, she hit it harder and harder, dust emitting from the bag with each punch. 'But then, Muire th' door swings both ways.' She admonished herself angrily. Gorgeous came by, keeping his distance and blinking with each blow she landed. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer, and she stormed over to the caravan and threw open the door.

"What the hell!" Turkish fumed, standing up abruptly, half expecting it to be Brick Top or some other unwelcome guest. He was only partly right.

Muireann stalked over to him, intent on at least continuing (if not finishing) what was started over breakfast. Without a sound, she put her hands on his chest as she kissed him full on the lips. He recoiled slightly with surprise, then pulled her roughly into himself, delving his tongue deeply into her willing mouth as he gave in to his own desire. Muireann pressed harder against him, her hips swaying against his while her arms encircled his neck.

Turkish lifted her with a hungry groan and turned around, pressing her down on to the table, following her body with his own. Frenzied hands began to tug his shirt upward, her back arching beneath him. He was suddenly pulling away from her, and stood before her, disheveled and angry with himself, swearing under his breath.

"What? What is it?" Muireann leaned up on one elbow, searching his face.

"We can't do this." Turkish muttered, straightening out his clothes with jerked movements.

Muireann sat up straight, incredulousness giving way to embarrassment and then anger once more. Turkish looked at her, wishing he had lower moral standards, so that he could satiate both of their desires right here and now. Instead, he turned his head from her, her name leaving his lips almost as a sigh as he tried to explain. Before he had uttered the last part of her name, she had brushed past him, heading for the door. He grabbed her arm, halting her. Muireann snatched her arm away from him as though his touch burned her. She stood, shaking, not looking at him.

"You need to understand…" he began, fighting to get control of himself.

"Oh, I'm sure I und'rst'nd y' perf'ctly well!" she seethed, forgetting her better grammar and taking on a full pikey accent and vocabulary. "I wouldn'a wanna int'rfere in yer life more'n already'ave!" She sounded exactly like Mickey now. "I'll be outta yer way, then!" She turned on her heel and left, nearly colliding with Tommy , who was opening the door. "Fucker!" she cursed under her breath.

"What was all of that, then?" Tommy asked, warranting a steely look from Turkish.

"Nothin' Tommy, don't worry about it." He sat down at the table with a heavy sigh, then stood up again, unable to be still. "I'm going for a walk."

"But…"

"I should be back in time, but make sure she gets her match in with Bill at one o'clock, okay?" Turkish grabbed his coat and exited the caravan, Tommy close behind.

"Turkish…"

"Not now, Tommy!"

Tommy stopped, perplexed, and did not miss the angry glare that was exchanged between Muireann and his partner, and apparently, neither did the other guys, who let out amused 'Ohh''s and chuckled. The last thing any of them heard was Turkish's annoyed, "Piss off!" to them before rounding a corner and disappearing from view. Determined to find out what was going on, Tommy strode over to Muireann, who was back to viciously pounding the punching bag.

"Here, I'll spot it for you." He offered, standing behind it to hold it steady as she laid into it. Muireann grunted a thanks, for this meant that she wouldn't have to stop hitting the bag.

"So, um," he flinched as she hit the bag particularly hard, "Turkish said you have a match at one with Bill." Another solid punch knocked him back a foot.

"So?" She punched again.

"Well, why are you doing this now, wearing yourself out before hand?" he asked.

"Y' both were upset wi' me when I knocked out Gorgeous yesterday. I wouldn't want t' truly upset y' by killin' someone." She paused, a grim smile settling in on her lips at the thought.

"K-kill someone?" Tommy asked. "Why would you do that?"

"B'cause I can." She said, resuming her stance.

"Muireann," she was hitting the bag again, "You probably don't want to talk about this, but I'd like to know what happened between you and Turkish in there." He kept his voice low.

"Yer right. I don't want t' talk about it." She started hitting harder, throwing her rising agitation into each blow.

"But…"

With a yell, she slammed her whole body into the bag, throwing Tommy onto his back on the concrete. He lay there gasping, trying to regain the breath he lost in the impact. He looked up as she stood over him, anger flashing in her blue-gray eyes.

"I said, I don't want t' talk 'bout it."

"Right." He sat up, and she looked to the clock and cursed. She moved toward the ring, looking around for Bill.

Muireann climbed between the ropes, Bill coming in from the other side. From the corner of her eye, Muireann saw Turkish's tall figure enter the lot from her left. She kept her gaze averted from there, focusing on the task at hand. Bill was nervous, she could see it in his eyes.

"Don't worry, darlin', I won't 'urt y' too bad!" She smiled sweetly at him. It did nothing to ease his fears.

So, Muireann moved toward him, taking the offensive since that's what he was expecting. She gave him a couple of light jabs, to show him that she was telling the truth. He relaxed a little at this, and got into the match a bit more. They battled for several minutes, honing footwork and combination moves without hitting each other full force.

"She's a pretty 'un, boy!" a gritty, obnoxious voice called from , drawing everyone's attention. "Wherever did ye manage to find 'er?"

The man was staring up at Muireann, his craggy face raking over her maliciously, every perverted thought plainly etched on his face. His two cronies seemed to be having the same thoughts, eyes gleaming.

"Muireann, get out of the ring." Turkish commanded, not looking away from Brick Top or his lackeys. The tone in his voice, mixed with the horrible feeling that this other man, Brick Top, gave her, kept her from protesting, and she slid down and out of the ring and moved behind Turkish.

"Oh, now, we were hoping to see more of the sweet little thing." The shorter of the two lackeys stepped forward, practically licking his lips.

"Now Errol, we ain't 'ere t' cause a ruckus." Brick Top cautioned.

"Why are you here, then?" Tommy asked, cocking his head to the side a little. He knew damn well not to cross Brick Top, but he also knew that Brick Top didn't 'just stop by' for any reason.

"Didn't I tell y' to keep 'er on a leash, Turkish?" Brick Top sneered, bristling.

Muireann looked from Turkish to Tommy to Brick Top and his goons, then back to Turkish. How could he let this vile man treat Tommy like that? Tommy was harmless; everyone knew that, though he did have a tendency to talk too much.

The next instant, though, something else happened that couldn't be ignored. On Brick Top's nod, Errol moved quickly, closing the distance between Tommy and himself, slugging the poor kid square in the jaw. Turkish started, but didn't retaliate, bending down to help Tommy up. With her adrenaline still pumping from the events of the day and the interrupted bout, Muireann could not contain herself. She leapt forward, slamming her fists into the man who had hit Tommy, and knocked him down within three shots before he realized what happened.

"'Tis a boy of a man who 'as t' beat on someone as is unable t' defend 'imself properly!" she hollered. However, she didn't count on the other lackey's anticipation of this, and was caught off guard as he hit her from the side, knocking her away from Errol.

"Enough!" Brick Top shouted, "This li'l cunt has some brass, Turkish!" He looked down to Errol, who was holding his jaw, eyes boring hate into Muireann's.

Muireann moved to go after the older man for his comment, but Turkish grabbed her from behind and held her fast to the spot. "Don't." he mumbled into her hear. Brick Top let out a gritty chuckle.

"Good t' see y' can keep one of 'em under control." Said Brick Top. Muireann tensed more, her muscles screaming for her to let loose and kick the bastard's ass. She pulled away from Turkish, unable to stop herself.

"Fuck off, y' arse-licker!" she spat out. Pain blasted through her head as John, the taller of the two cronies backhanded her across her face, causing her to bite her tongue. She staggered back against Turkish's body, wiping blood from her lip.

"I like 'er Turkish, an' seein' as 'ow you got some sense in ye, I'm gonna make a proposition." Muireann felt Turkish tense as he contemplated what exactly Brick Top might mean. Brick Top motioned for Turkish to come closer.

"Tommy," Turkish gently pushed Muireann towards him and stepped closer to the old man.

"I don't like when one of my boys gets laid out like that, y'hear me?" Turkish nodded, tempering his rage, because not doing so would probably get them all killed. "Good. Now, that cunt of yours is gonna hafta pay for what she did to Errol. Listen t' me carefully, Turkish, that bitch is gonna fight someone of my choosin', in my arena, in three days, got it?" Another nod. "And, she's gonna go down in th' fifth. Understood?"

"Yeah, sure." Turkish knew damn well that no sister of Mickey O'Neil would ever throw a fight. Neither would she take a beating from anyone without putting them in the hospital as well. But he agreed anyway, wanting nothing more than to get this man out of his lot.

"If she don't get 'erself killed, I might let 'er off easy and only require 'er…company…a couple of nights, if y' know what I mean." Brick Top's evil smile at Turkish's sharp intake of breath told him that the man knew he had found a weak point. However, he said nothing, just pulled back and stepped away, fists clenched. "C'mon boys, time t' leave."

John and Errol followed Brick Top away from the three, scowling. Once they were gone, Turkish turned toward Muireann and Tommy, not sure which one to lay into first for their reckless behavior. The sight of them, however – Tommy still testing his jaw gingerly to be sure it wasn't broken, and Muireann with blood trickling from her lips, forced his anger to the back of his mind as he switched into his 'post-fight' mode, assessing injuries and fixing them if possible. Fortunately, neither of them were too bad off. The other boxers had resumed their workouts, ignoring the aftermath of Brick Top's visit.

"Get your things, we're leaving." He said to Muireann, who hesitated a minute before complying. "You alright, Tommy?"

"Yeah, I guess" he shifted his lower jaw again just to be sure.

"Keep an eye on the place. I'll be back shortly." Tommy nodded as Muireann came up beside Turkish, still dabbing at the blood.

"Y' took that 'it like a pro." She told Tommy, her words a little thicker than normal due to the slight swelling of her tongue.

"Thanks." He thought about it for a moment, then grinned back.

Turkish sighed and took hold of Muireann's arm, guiding her to the exit.

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Note: This,I think, is my favorite chapter so far - but I've got one that'll be better waiting in the wings... Hope you liked it!  



	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Snatch and everything associated with it belong to Guy Ritchie. I merely am borrowing it for my own perverse pleasure.

Review Responses:

MicroChips: Awww yeah! Gotta love it! You can stop wringing your hands a bit! Funny thing is, those three are the easiest to write!

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Chapter 5

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Turkish slammed the keys onto the counter. He had kept his mouth shut the entire walk back to the flat, trying to convince himself that yelling at her would probably do no good.

Muireann spun towards him. "I was doin' what I felt was right." she said, her voice level. She was beginning to get tired of arguing with this man.

"Do you know who that was?"

"Yeah, 't was some disgustin' old man who 'as a piss poor excuse fer bodyguards – or whate'er the 'ell y' want t' call 'em, and who thinks 'e's th' king of the fuckin' world." She retorted.

"As far as we're concerned, he may as well be!" Turkish's volume went up a notch. "Brick Top is the type of man who can have a man killed on the spot and no one would lift a finger! He is NOT someone who's bad side I want to be on, and neither should you!"

She had her brother's hard stare, the one that Turkish had been given when he accidentally called Mickey's mother a tart. It was a warning look that needed no words to tell its recipient that they were very close to unleashing a world of pain unlike anything they had ever known on themselves if they weren't careful. That previous experience (and witnessing other's experience) with Mickey had taught Turkish not to push any further at this point; not out of fear, but because he didn't want to see first hand what she was capable of. The last thing he wanted was a broken jaw.

"Right, I'm going to go close the books for the day. Do me a favor and stay here." He eyed her for a moment before leaving, locking the door behind him.

"Bloody fool!" Muireann swore, walking into the bathroom to examine her face for any bruising. As she suspected, there was an angry red welt on her cheek, and one spot in particular was pretty tender to her touch. Moving to the tub, she started the water, intending to run a bath. She turned the water off again, deciding that she wanted to take a bubble bath.

Muireann didn't indulge herself like that often, but after today, she figured she deserved it. She took the last of the money from her grocery run and left the door unlocked as she left, trotting through the hallway and down the stairs. There was a pharmacy right around the corner, she had noticed last night, and while choosing which bubble bath she wanted, decided that she would get the most feminine-smelling stuff she could find just to irritate the insufferable lout. She wasn't entirely sure it would bother him as much as she was hoping it would, but it was worth a shot. 'Of course, though, there is always that chance that he'll like it, too.' A thrill of a shiver went through her, and she quickly reminded herself that she was currently angry with the man. She paid for her purchase, and then returned to the apartment, glad to see that no one had decided to try the door and help themselves to the contents (meager as they were) within.

She checked the time – it had been forty-five minutes since Turkish had left. She started the bathwater again, putting the seldom-used plug into the drain. Once the tub was halfway full, Muireann poured two capfuls of the floral-scented stuff under the hot running water. She began to undress, her thoughts straying back to Turkish. Angry as she had been with him, something inside craved for him to be there, near her.

Climbing gingerly into the scalding tub, Muireann lay back against the side, relishing in the feeling of the heat instantly relaxing her muscles. As they did so, Muireann let her mind wander, imagining Turkish coming home and finding her there in the tub. She semi-conciously trailed a hand across the sensitive tops of her breasts, awakening the rosy buds. She sighed softly as the images progressed in her head.

He would come over to her, kneel down aside the bathtub, pick up the washcloth and dip it into the water. As he would lean forward, he would kiss her – not rough like earlier, but tenderly, slowly, making every nerve tingle throughout her body. She moved her hand lower, as she envisioned his hand caressing her thigh below the water. Just as she was reaching her peak, Muireann heard the click of the lock being opened on the door, and had to hold back her cry of release. She stilled, trying to catch her breath.

"Muireann?" Turkish called.

"In the bath." She said loud enough for him to hear, her heart pounding.

Turkish's deceitful body instantly responded to the thought, and he let out a curse, deliberately walking to the kitchen to see what else she had managed to buy this morning on her shopping trip. He was surprised to see that there was a substantial amount of food compared to what had been there last night, and contemplated making something instead of going out again for supper, more as a peace offering than the fact that he enjoyed cooking for the hell of it. Maybe he could explain to her now why there could be nothing between them.

The sound of the water splashing from end to end in the tub as she got out brought his attention back to his immediate situation. Once again, she had managed to elicit an arousing response from him without even doing anything. He removed the bottle of whiskey from its place under the counter and took a swig, then stared at the bottle as he realized that it had been a long time since he had resorted to drinking the whiskey straight out of the bottle, and this was the second time that he'd done it since she'd been here. Turkish was drawn from his revelation by the bathroom door squeaking as it opened. He thought to himself that it was a good thing that the bathroom was around the corner from the kitchen.

Muireann's footsteps padded against the floor as she went to her bags and then retreated back into the bathroom again, he assumed to get dressed. A ragged breath was unleashed from Turkish as he put the bottle away and went to the chair in the living room, using the remote to turn on the telly. He flipped through the channels absently, wondering what she was putting on. Just as he forced his mind to pay attention to the show on the screen, Muireann came out of the bathroom again.

Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, slightly more wavy than normal from the steam in the bathroom and being pulled up. She wore pale blue flannel pajama bottoms and a dark blue camisole tank top made of cotton so thin that he swore he could nearly make out the outline of her areolas through it. This set of another wave of excitement through his lower half and he looked back at the television, trying to act unaffected by her. She sat on the sofa, curling her bare feet up next to her, watching him.

"So are you…"

"What else d' you…"

They both stopped and looked at each other, neither sure if they should continue. With an exasperated sigh, Muireann closed her eyes and slowly reopened them.

"Go ahead." She said.

"It's alright, you go." Turkish responded. She shot him an irritated look. "Alright, fine, I'll go. Are you hungry? I can make us something to eat."

Her irritation was tinged with amusement at the thought. "I don't know if I wanna test my luck too much more t'day." She said.

"Well, I trust my own cooking before almost anyone else's." He responded. He could see she was tired, worn out from the events of the day. Her head was now resting on her knees which she had drawn up to her chest, and her eyes were beginning to rim with pink. "Or would you rather go to bed?"

Her head shot up at that, trying to ascertain his meaning, eyes widened.

"You look very tired. I thought you may prefer to sleep." The corners of his mouth twitched, "Alone. In my room if you prefer."

Muireann continued to stare at him, not sure if she was relieved or discouraged.

"Look, Muireann, if you're going to stay here – no matter for how long – then it would be best for us to get some things straight." He studied her face for any type of response. He decided to try talking about this afternoon, to make her see his side of the dilemma. "About earlier, in the caravan…"

"I'd rather no' talk about it." She turned her head away from him, gazing at the television screen with blank eyes.

"Too bad." He turned off the set, the sudden silence flooding the apartment. Rain was starting to patter onto the windows. She looked at him expectantly now, like a defiant teenager ready for her parent to reprimand her for the umpteenth time. "First, I want to apologize…"

"Oh, so y' didn't mean t' kiss me then?" she was pissed. "It was a' unfortunate accident?"

"I never said that." Muireann rolled her eyes, focusing them on a spot on the wall. Turkish could feel his anger brewing again. "Dammit Muireann! Stop acting like a child and listen!" He didn't yell, yet the commanding tone in his voice forced her to look at him, defiance flaring behind her veiled stare. "I can't get involved with any of my fighters. If I get involved, that means emotions get involved, and if emotions get involved, things get complicated!" He didn't stop long enough to let her speak, "I mean, if you were to get yourself into a bad situation with Brick Top, there'd be nothing I could do for you."

"Wouldn't wanna take a risk, no…" she muttered. "Wouldn't wanna damage tha' pretty face o' yers, God forbid! And for a girl, no less! Dispicable!"

This was too much, and Turkish rose, storming over to her. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up, holding her hands behind her with one and her chin with the other. Anger and fear stared back at him. 'Damn! This wasn't th' way t'night was supposed t' go!' she thought, wondering what he was going to do.

"Let go." She growled at him through clenched teeth. He only held her tighter, his thoughts and emotions a jumbled mess as he inhaled the sweet floral scent coming off of her skin. Just one more…

He let her go suddenly, and she fell back onto the sofa. He seized his coat off of the chair, then the keys from the counter. "The offer to sleep in my room is still open." He grumbled.

"Goin' t' see yer whore?!" she taunted him as the door slammed shut. 'Fuck 'im!' she thought. Muireann walked to the cupboard and took out the bottle of whiskey. She tipped the bottle back and chugged several swallows of the burning liquid. She went to the fire escape and stepped out, sitting in the rain on the metal steps.

This is where he found her when he returned some time later, empty bottle in hand and passed out, soaked from the now steady downpour. Swearing, he picked her up and brought her inside, kicking the bottle off of the mesh landing. It shattered on the street below, echoing down the corridor between the buildings. Muireann groaned as he carried her towards his bedroom, her eyes fluttering open. "I'm…"

Turkish got her to the toilet just in time. He held her hair back and her body steady as she vomited into the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach, which at this point was almost nothing. When she had finished, he handed her a moistened towel and a cup with water to rinse her mouth with. She tried to stand, falling against him, and he picked her up once more and took her into the bedroom.

"Gotta get you out of these wet clothes. Can't have you getting sick before your first fight." Turkish sat her up a little, inching her rain soaked shirt off of her. He stopped, realizing that he needed something to redress her in, so he laid her back down and went to his dresser, grabbing a seldom-used sweatshirt from the middle drawer, and a pair of boxer shorts from the top drawer. Turning back to her inebriated form, Turkish was surprised to find her glassy eyes fixed on him.

"What're y' doin'?" she slurred, rolling her head to look at the ceiling. It seemed to be the only thing that she couldn't tell was spinning.

"I'm getting you some dry clothes to sleep in." He came back to her side, lifting her up again and removing her shirt fully.

"Sure…" she mumbled, reaching up to help him with the undressing.

Turkish tried to avert his eyes from her as she flopped back against the pillows, breasts bouncing with the motion. She giggled, a muffled girlish sound against the fabric of the pillow case. He swallowed hard as she sat back up clumsily, smiling at him. "'t's kinda cold in 'ere." His eyes darted to her hardened nipples, and they stared right back, daring him.

Ignoring his throbbing erection, Turkish helped her to put on his sweatshirt. "Now your bottoms." He couldn't keep the tension from his voice as she looked at him, her smile gone, no mistaking the blazing in her eyes.

"You do it."

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A/N: heh heh heh.... they're just gluttons for punishment,aren't they!?! I promise that we will have some fighting, and the return of yet another old friend... keep reading! 


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Snatch and everything associated with it belong to Guy Ritchie. I merely am borrowing it for my own perverse pleasure.

**A/N:** Reviews are what keep me going, guys! Even if you don't like something, tell me. I welcome constructive criticism!

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Chapter 6 

"What?" Turkish almost didn't believe what she'd said.

"I said," her voice was thick with the alcohol as she sat up, her eyes daring him, "YOU do it."

She began tugging at the waistline of the soaked pants, and Turkish stopped her briefly before she bared too much. "Muireann," he hesitated. 'Jesus! Why does she have to make it so difficult?' he took a deep breath, "you need to do this." He turned away slightly, and heard her fussing with the stubborn fabric as it clung to her legs. There was a thwap as the soaking wet material hit the floor.

"H-okay." Turkish turned back towards her at that, intent on getting her to go to sleep. Muireann had other ideas, though, as she placed a hand on either side of his face, staring into his eyes. He had glimpsed the boxers still sitting next to her. Partly regretting the decision, Turkish gently pulled her hands away and laid her back on the bed, and proceeded to put his boxers on her, covering her nakedness and ignoring her drunken protests. He pulled the blankets over her shivering form.

"You'll thank me in the morning." He said, standing.

"Wait..." her soft, almost sober sounding plea struck a chord deep within him and he waited for her to continue. "Don't wanna be alone." She opened her eyes, gazing up at him with clear eyes. "Don't go."

"Muireann..."

"I promise," she gave him a drunken but innocent smile, "nothin' more than sleep."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Turkish still hadn't moved from his spot, unable to force himself to leave her.

"Please." Her breathing was slowing as sleep began to overtake her. She lifted her arms toward him as her eyes drifted closed.

Knowing it would probably cause problems later, he gave in to her, walking slowly to the opposite side of the bed, hoping his sense of reason would kick in, sparing him the temptation of having her so close. Though he usually slept in the nude, Turkish didn't want to make her think that they'd done something they hadn't. Instead, he stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and slid under the blankets.

After tossing and turning for what seemed like an eternity, Turkish relented and removed the cumbersome shirt. He tried to keep some space between their two bodies, but the motion of him laying back down roused her slightly, and she turned over, wrapping an arm around him. She wriggled closer to his warmth, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. 'It's gonna be a really long night.' Turkish thought to himself. However, the feeling of someone pressing close, and the warmth now being generated by their bodies soon lulled him to sleep.

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Turkish awoke in the morning with Muireann practically on top of him, sleeping soundly with one leg draped over and between his, her left arm still over him, but curled toward her peaceful face. The proximity of her leg to his groin made him all the more aware of his morning erection. He gasped as she shifted in her sleep, drawing her thigh up along him. 

Muireann made a small noise, then stretched. Turkish bit his lip as her body pressed firmly against his during the movement. He closed his eyes against the urge to wake her by rolling over on top of her and settling himself deep within her. His mind was raging with all sorts of perverse thoughts after that, attempting to convince his body to act.

"Oh!" Turkish felt her warmth leave suddenly, then the bed shifted as she dropped back down, holding her hand over her eyes. A groan escaped her throat. He opened one eye to look at her, then turned his whole head toward her.

"Figured that's about how you'd feel this morning." He said, keeping his voice as quiet as possible.

"Ugh! Bloody 'ell!" she peered at him from between her fingers.

"I found you, totally pissed, out on the fire escape when I came back." He explained, then added, "You owe me a bottle of whiskey."

She gave him a dirty look, then realized she wasn't wearing her own clothes. Her gaze flew back to his, questioning.

"No." He answered simply. "Your clothes were soaked through. I grabbed the first thing I thought of." She nodded miserably. "Do you want some tea or coffee?"

"Mmpph. Coffee." She turned, burying her face into the pillow.

Muireann almost thought she was going to be sick as the bed moved when he got up, but managed to stop her stomach from wretching itself out of her. He was back within minutes, steaming cup in hand.

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The next few days were uneasy to say the least, not like before, but more now about Muireann's preparation for the fight. There had been an unspoken agreement of sorts between her and Turkish, and things had gotten along pretty well. Now, as Muireann sat in the back hallway of Brick Top's place, Tommy and Turkish were going over everything with her again, as if she didn't already know what to do. 

"This is important," Turkish was saying, "DO NOT knock him out! Understand?"

"Sure. Got it. No killin', go down in the fifth. Right." Muireann said dutifully with a hint of sarcasm.

"Muireann!" She smiled innocently at him. Just as he was about to reprimand her, another voice broke in. Turkish stood, unsure of what was going to happen.

"You know what you're doin', girl?" Brick Top came up, Errol and John in tow. Errol was looking a bit pleased with the way Muireann grimaced under his disgusting gaze. Brick Top reached down, turning her face towards him. "I asked if you know what you're doin'." He repeated, his grossly discolored teeth and foul breath were almost too much, and Muireann tried to pull away.

"Yeah. I know. Don't knock him out. Go down in the fifth." She spat.

Brick Top leaned in closer, making Tommy and Turkish nervous. It was obvious that Muireann wasn't going to put up with this for too much longer. "Good." He ran a finger down her cheek before letting her go. "Let's go, boys."

"If 'e ever tries t' touch me again, I'll break 'is wrists!" Muireann fumed after they had left. For all of her bravado, though, she was shaking slightly. At first, Turkish thought it was anger, but he was unnerved by the sudden welling of tears in her eyes. Tommy was instantly next to her, handing her his handkerchief. Muireann refused it, staring at the doorway that the three men had gone through, and wiping violently at the offending liquid that was starting to slide down her cheek.

Not quite knowing what to do, Turkish said, "You know, you can't knock the Bulldog out, but that doesn't mean you can't bugger him." It worked, and Muireann smiled, letting out a choked laugh.

"Yeah."

They stood, moving out into the main fight area, working through the crowd of people. A few men tried to grab at Murieann's bottom, only to be pushed back by Turkish as Tommy led her forward to the ring. Muireann entered the squared circle, glancing about at the large number of people who had gathered to watch. Tommy took her sweatshirt, causing several loud whistles and catcalls to come from the crowd.

"Remember, down in the fifth." Turkish reminded her.

"If you don't stop remindin' me, I'll knock YOU out before the fuckin' fifth!"

"Atta girl!" Turkish grinned, stepping down onto the floor.

The match went smoothly, or as smooth as a boxing match could go, with neither opponent getting much in by way of good shots. Muireann was becoming more and more frustrated as she continued to hold back, except for the one time that she landed a huge right hook into the Bulldog. Time seemed to stop as he lay on the canvas for a second or two before getting back up, enraged. But, he was getting paid to take her down in the fifth, and she would go down, and he was already thinking of what he would do to get back at her.

When the time came, Muireann was fighting within herself, every fiber in her screaming to not go through with it, and to hell with anyone who had a problem with it. But then, she thought of Turkish and Tommy, who probably wouldn't make it out of the arena alive if she did go with her gut instinct. Deciding she couldn't risk it, she allowed the Bulldog to get in a rather substantial shot. Muireann took the punch, allowing her body to go with the motion and fall to the canvas, only half pretending to be out cold.

The Bulldog stalked around her as the crowd roared, Muireann heard the count going up. 7...8...9...10! And then, just as the bell rang, the unthinkable happened. Not seeing what was coming, Muireann tried to cry out as a solid kick to her midsection forced all of the air out of her lungs. Another kick, and another, to various parts of her body sent pain surging through every nerve. She reached blindly, trying to grab an ankle or foot, but to no avail. She tasted the blood that she was now starting to cough up, gasping for air. The onslaught continued for what she thought was forever, until a blow to the head brought darkness and quiet.

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A/N: Formatting's being stupid. My apologies. What did you think? 


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Snatch and everything associated with it belong to Guy Ritchie. I merely am borrowing it for my own perverse pleasure.

**A/N:** Guys, I'm so sorry for the delay in the update – other matters have taken over, and I'm trying to work on this, two other fics, and a novel in between everything else. I know it's short, but I didn't want to leave you hanging too much longer. Be gentle. :ducks to avoid flying objects from the crowd:

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**Chapter 7**

"Wha' th' fuck did y' 'ave t' make 'er do tha' for?"

"It couldn't be helped, Mickey." Tommy's voice was apologetic.

"Nearly got 'er killed!"

"Turkish, you think we should take her to the hospital?"

The voices were coming louder now, less muffled.

Pause.

"Turkish?"

"Fuck, man, are y' deaf?" Mickey grabbed Turkish's arm, and was angrily shrugged off.

"No." Turkish turned back to her from the window, guilt surging through him. "No hospitals."

"What if she doesn't come around?" Tommy's voice was worried.

"She will, she's a fighter." Turkish responded. Mickey nodded, and went looking for a drink. He returned a second later with the new bottle of whiskey that Turkish had bought before the match, and took a swig, passing the bottle to Tommy and Turkish. He looked back at his sister, bruised and beaten.

"I'll kill th' bastards!"

"Y'll do nothin' of the sort!" A weak voice said. All three men were instantly around Muireann as she slowly opened her eyes, grimacing from the pain that ebbed through her entire body. "I'm gonna do it m'self."

"What"

"Huh"

"I t'ink y' took one too many blows to th' head, there, girl." Mickey said affectionately, taking a hold of her hand and brushing a stray hair out of her eyes.

Muireann ground her teeth as she tried to sit up, causing her breath to come out as a hiss. With a pained sigh, she looked at the three of them. "Thank y' for gettin' me outta there. What th' 'ell happened? Th' last thing I remember is gettin' the shite kicked outta me by th' bastard."

Turkish and Tommy exchanged a look, but Mickey's eyes lit up as he began to recount what had taken place after she blacked out, speaking so fast that even Muireann was struggling to keep up with the story. Once the Bulldog had started laying into her, the referee had tried to break up the assault, only to get thrown out of the ring by the larger man. By this time, Mickey, who had arrived just before the match started, had made his way through the bloodthirsty crowd as they pressed closer to watch the girl get a severe beating. Sliding into the ring, Mickey attacked the Bulldog, intent not just on knocking the man out, but ending his life all together.

Turkish continued the story, telling Muireann that he and Tommy had pulled her out of the ring, Turkish carrying her unconscious form out to the back hall, intending to leave. As they came through the doors from the arena, Errol and John were waiting for them.

* * *

_"Leaving so soon" Errol asked, his eyes glinting maliciously._

_"Outta the way, boys" Tommy demanded, trying to push through them. He stumbled backward as John shoved him further from the exit, causing him to collide with Mickey._

_"We better be goin'." Mickey said fervently, pulling himself upright. He had not noticed the two thugs before._

_"You're not goin' anywhere until we get what we want." John threatened._

_Turkish, still holding Muireann, was trying to think of a way out of the situation. "And what, pray tell, might that be" he asked before realizing it for himself. Taking a step back, he clutched the bruised and bleeding girl closer to himself, a fierce protectiveness overcoming him._

_Errol and John both moved forward, menacing sneers on their faces._

_A voice, so low and dangerous, spoke then, even and calculated to the point that at first no one knew who'd said"You best keep away from her." Startled at the ferocity that was barely contained within that single sentence, four pairs of eyes shifted to the unlikely owner of the voice._

_There was Tommy, aiming a pistol at their two opponents. The fear that had been there moments before was gone, replaced with absolute resolve. The deadly calm that emanated from him was something that Turkish had never seen before, not even the time that these same two men had practically destroyed the arcade and were on the verge of kicking his own ass, and Turkish found some hope in that._

_"Is that little toy supposed to scare us? I bet it doesn't even fire." Errol inquired, testing the boy to see if he would have the minerals to go through with it and taking a step toward the gun. The hallway was seemingly in total silence, holding its breath as the somehow too loud 'Click' of the gun being cocked echoed throughout the confined space. No one dared to move._

_"Turkish, Mickey" Tommy kept his gaze fixed on the two goons as he spoke"Get her out of here." Neither man moved._

_"Tommy..." Turkish began._

_"Now, Turkish! I mean it." The younger man's voice never wavered._

_Mickey began to move for the exit. Turkish followed, not able to turn his back on his friend and partner, in case something would happen. After a few seconds, Tommy followed, keeping the gun trained on John and Errol. "Don't even think about followin' us" He said before getting into the taxi that had been flagged down._

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Muireann drew a ragged breath, reaching up for the bottle of whiskey that Mickey still clutched. Not one of the three could bring themselves to tell her that it probably wasn't a good idea, because they all knew that everyone needs a good stiff drink after a night like they'd just had. Within moments, her weary body had claimed sleep, leaving the three men to try to figure out what – if anything – should be done next.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Snatch and everything associated with it belong to Guy Ritchie. I merely am borrowing it for my own perverse pleasure.

**A/N:** This chapter's been a long time coming... sorry for the delay... the muses decided to abandon me for a while. Hopefully they stick around for a while this time. Reviews welcome, flames... eh, whatever. Hope you like it!

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Chapter 8

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Turkish sat at the table in the arcade's office, trying to sort out what he was going to do. It wouldn't be long before Brick Top came around again, that much was sure, and who knew if it was going to be to book another fight. If it wasn't, and the bastard decided he meant what he'd said about Muireann 'keeping him company', things were going to get ugly. Even thinking about the possibility made his blood pressure go up a couple of notches.

There was another thing he needed to sort out. How the hell had the girl gotten him by the bollocks so quickly? Worse, how come he had let her? He stood and began to pace, sighing in frustration. Maybe if he would've given in to his prick's demands to bed her when he had the chance, she wouldn't have gotten under his skin the way she did. Now, all she had to do was blink those eyes of hers and he went all soft inside. It wasn't unlike the way that Tommy managed to do, 'cept Tommy wasn't a willing, beautiful Hellcat who happened to be related to the man who'd nearly ended Turkish's days as a boxing promoter with a single punch. Twice, if you counted the one he'd landed on Gorgeous over the caravan issue.

A sound in the arcade caught his attention and he went to investigate. Everything looked to be in order, but he knew that would be the first sign of trouble. Just as the thought entered his mind, he was jumped. Heavy hands gripped his arms from behind, immobilizing him as a fist slammed into his gut. Turkish dropped to his knees, gasping. The person holding his arms changed their grip, holding both wrists behind him and wrapping their other arm around to force his chin up. He managed to glimpse Errol out of the corner of his eye. Must be John that had him in that vice grip.

"What the fuck are you two ladies doing here?"

Errol sneered and punched Turkish in the jaw, making his teeth clack together.

"Keep your mouth shut an' your ears open, boy." Brick Top came into view then. He stood before Turkish and looked down at him disdainfully. For several painful moments, the younger man could do nothing but stare up at him, tasting the coppery flavor of his blood from the split lip Errol had given him and trying to think of a way out of his current situation. "I've been doing some thinking, Turkish..." Brick Top said at last, pausing for what might have been meant to be a dramatic effect. "I've been thinking 'bout that lit'l 'ellcat of yours."

Turkish bristled but remained quiet. Maybe this wasn't headed in the direction he thought it was. Like that had a chance in hell of being true.

"I want her at my place tomorrow." Brick Top said.

"She's in no condition for another fight." Turkish told him. "It's gonna be at least three weeks before she can get back in the ring. Your man did a lot of damage after the bell rang."

Brick Top scowled. "I don't recall sayin' anything about having 'er fight. Did I say anything about having 'er fight, Errol?"

"No, Guv'nor, didn't say a single word 'bout tha'."

Turkish felt a sick feeling creeping up in him. "What, then?" Like he didn't know.

"You let me worry about what. Just make sure you 'ave her at my place Thursday night, seven, sharp. Are we clear?"

"Not unless you tell me what you want with her." Turkish replied. "As her manager, I have a right to know."

What little wind he'd managed to regain choked out of him when Errol's foot connected with his midsection again.

"It's not your place to question me, Turkish. It is by my good grace that you 'aven't wound up staring at your own arsehole whilst I'm shoveling your body parts into troughs." Brick Top threatened. Errol added another kick. "I'll not tell you again. Thursday. Seven. And make sure she wears somethin' nice." With that, he turned around. Once he was out of sight, Errol and John proceeded to make sure that Turkish didn't forget what was in store if he failed to do as he was told.

...

Muireann woke up to hushed voices filtering in from the other room. She struggled to a sitting position, dragging in short breaths. There was too much pain in just breathing for her not to have a couple of broken ribs at least. With more effort, she moved her feet to the side of the bed and tried to stand. The limbs felt sturdy enough but her head swam and she had to sit back down, hissing as the motion sent pain through her chest and back.

"Sonofa-" She waited a few seconds before trying again, more slowly, and was content with the lower level of dizziness that she felt. Then, gingerly, she made her way toward the door.

Tommy and Mickey sat in the main room, talking in hushed tones and watching something on the Beeb. Tommy saw her first, his astonishment at her being up and out of bed clearly written on his face.

"What're y' doin'?" Mickey asked, hopping up from his seat and coming to her. "Go back t' bed!"

"I 'ave t' pee."

Mickey grinned. "Alright, go, but then yer back t' restin'. Y' shouldn't be on yer feet jus' yet."

Muireann shuffled into the bathroom. "Where's Turkish?"

"Seein' to the arcade." Tommy answered. "I imagine he'll be back soon."

Nodding, the injured Hellcat shut the door and emerged a few minutes later, feeling a bit better. She'd taken a minute to survey the damages in the mirror – nasty bruising along the ribs on the right side, a shiner and minor swelling around her left eye, various cuts and bruises on her arms and legs. Her left wrist ached sharply when she flexed it, but it was still mobile. There was still the possibility of internal bleeding, but the hospital wasn't somewhere she wanted to go.

Instead of going back to the bed, she sat on the end of the sofa, feeling uneasy. "How long ago did 'e leave?"

It took Tommy a minute to realize what she meant. Mickey gave her an inquisitive glance.

"'Bout four hours ago."

"Say when 'e'd be back?"

"No, but he's usually-" Tommy stopped talking as the lock clicked and the door started to open. "Shit!"

Muireann's gasp was audible as both Mickey and Tommy rushed to help Turkish into the flat. She couldn't do anything but watch as they brought him over to sit on the other side of the sofa, a blur of questions and muttered curses flitting about.

"What the hell happened to you?" Tommy asked.

Turkish looked at Muireann through a half-swollen shut eye. "Why aren't you in bed?" He asked. Tommy went to get something for the swelling.

"Why do y' look like y' just lost a fight with th' two o'clock chuffer?" she ignored his question.

He grimaced as Tommy pressed a slab of meat to his eye a little less than gently. "Seems Brick Top has more than a passing interest in you." he replied.

Mickey straightened, his eyes glittering dangerously. Tommy's eyebrows shot up. Muireann raised an eyebrow but otherwise hid her reaction.

"If tha' old fucker wants me t' finish th' job tha' should've been done right th' firs' time, I'm happy t' oblige." Mickey spouted, furious. Muireann placed a hand on his wrist to calm him.

"Turkish, you're not serious - no offense Muireann – but what's he want with her?" Tommy asked.

Turkish shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Tommy, maybe he wants to thank her for all the money he made off of that sham of a fight she just had." His gaze found Muireann again, and he said, "He was mum on the why part, but I'm sure we all can guess."

"Fucker!" Mickey growled.

"Mickey!" Muireann tapped his arm. "Enough!" She looked back at Turkish. "I take it th' badges you've got there were 'is way of makin' sure y understood 'im."

"Somethin' like that." Turkish nodded. "He wants you there tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Tommy's head jerked up.

Muireann's eyes fixed on Turkish's.

"Absolutely not!" Mickey was livid.

Muireann and Turkish still had not looked away from each other.

"Turkish..." Tommy couldn't believe what be was hearing.

It was as though Mickey and Tommy weren't in the room. A silent conversation was taking place between them.

"What time is 'e expecting me?" She asked at last.

"Six."

"Muireann, ye ain't goin'!" Mickey cut in.

"And just what's he got in mind?" She continued as though she hadn't heard.

Turkish shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe just supper." The doubt and sarcasm reverberated in the flat.

Muireann nodded.

Mickey stepped right up to the sofa and got his sister's attention. "No! I'll not letchya do it!"

Turkish sat back with a grimace.

"I'm goin'."

Mickey's rage boiled. "I said NO!"

"Are y' blind?" She fired at him, standing so quickly that it tore a gasp from her. She pushed past the pain and continued, "Y' see what they've done t' 'im." She gestured to Turkish. "I 'ave t' do it or Brick Top'll just keep tattooin' anyone who 'appens t' be around."

"Take it easy, Muir." Tommy said with a concerned expression.

"Wha' d' y' tink'll 'appen when 'e gets ye alone, Muireann?" Mickey was not going to back down.

"I kin 'andle 'im." Muireann replied flippantly.

"Yer already in a bad way! Y' can't take all o' 'em alone! An' y' know 'e'll 'ave 'em waitin' outside whatever room yer in!"

"I can't let it get worse 'n it already 'as!"

Mickey was pacing now. "Dammit girl, I won't tell y' again!"

"Mickey," Turkish was on his feet now as well

"An' you! You oughtta be tellin' 'er no, too!"

"It's no' 'is decision." Muireann interjected. "It's mine. An' I'm goin'."

"Muireann, I'm sure that we can find another way to deal with this." Tommy said.

She glanced at him and shook her head. "No way that won't get you hurt too."

"Fucker!" Mickey shouted in frustration. He came within an two inches of his sister's face, glaring. Behind the rage was intense concern and fear of losing yet another member of his family.

"Hey! Back off!" Turkish stuck his arm between them and started to push Mickey away.

Mickey pushed back harder, making Turkish stumble a step.

"Oi!" Tommy shouted as Turkish growled and came toe to toe with the boxer.

"The fuck do you think you're doin' Mickey?"

"Enough!" Muireann shoved between them. "Both of you!"

Mickey glared at Turkish a moment longer then glanced at his sister before cursing under his breath and heading for the door.

"Where're y' goin'?" Muireann called after him.

"Anywhere but 'ere." He shot back. The door slammed shut behind him.

Muireann took sighed, then groaned in agony, clutching her ribs. Tommy and Turkish both reached out.

"Sit down, before you hurt yourself more." Mickey tried to guide her back onto the sofa.

"She should be in bed."

"I know that, Turkish, but since she's out her, she should just sit."

"I'm her manager, and I say she needs to lie down!"

"Shut it, both of you." Muireann interrupted, "I'll sit in a sec. First I want a drink." She went to the cabinet and took out the bottle of whiskey, looking back at Turkish. "You want some?"

He eyed her for a minute, "Yeah."

Her eyes lingered on him briefly. "Tommy?"

"Nah, I'm good." He shifted a glance between them. "Um, I think I should be going home soon. Sounds like we're gonna have one hell of a day tomorrow."

Turkish took the bottle and drank, then drank again. Muireann gained it back and drank, catching a fleeting taste of him on the lip of the bottle.

"Right..." Tommy made for the door.

"Tommy-" Muireann had turned toward him. "Thank ye."

He offered her a simple, sad smile. "Your welcome." She smiled back. "We still have a day to figure something out."

"Yeah." She agreed.

After one last look to Turkish, Tommy nodded and left. Muireann stood staring at the door for a moment longer. When she turned back around, Turkish had his hands braced stiffly against the counter and was leaning forward, staring blankly at the surface, working his jaw. Muireann walked over and placed the bottle down, running a hand up his arm before starting to rub his shoulders. The muscles were so tense she wondered if he wouldn't become a stone statue at any moment.

"What are you doing?"

"Y' looked like y' could use it." She continued to massage, trying to keep any of the fear and weakness she was feeling from being heard in her voice.

She worked one knot, watching his shoulders begin to slump. His head dropped slightly. "You should be resting, not doing this."

"You've been tendin' to me through all th' injuries lately. I can do this fer you." She pressed a little harder, ignoring the protest from her fingers.

He sighed and gave in for a few seconds. "I'll think of a way to get you out of this thing with Bricktop."

Muireann shook her head. "Those two goons didn'a manage t' beat any sense inta you at all, did they?" She ran her hands down either side of his spine and back up while keeping a steady pressure.

"I've had worse." He groaned softly.

"I doubt it." Prompted by some strange need to be closer to him, she shifted nearer and quietly inhaled his scent.

He reached up and stopped her hand on his right shoulder, turning to face her. Muireann was taken aback, worried that he would rebuke her. They stared at each other for a long while, his hand still holding hers.

"I have t' go through with it." She finally said in a soft tone.


End file.
